


Dirty Talk

by soongtypeprincess



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Wings, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Bratty Crowley (a bit), Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Floor Sex, Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Smut, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wall Sex, Wing Kink, also gets off on certain books of the Bible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: “I can do more than that, love,” he growled, pulling away when Crowley tried to kiss him. “I can restrain you...tease you...deny you, if I feel so inclined.”“Yesss…” Crowley clenched his fists. Aziraphale was slow in getting the hang of talking dirty, but Crowley would take what he could get. He was getting somewhat better.





	Dirty Talk

**Author's Note:**

> First Good Omens fic and of course it's smut because there needs to be more!
> 
> I don't own these characters. I just like to make them happy.
> 
> Edit: I changed the title. Suited it more.

The state of Aziraphale’s accounts post-business hours were alarming. He _sold_ books today! The sheer audacity that people would enter his book shoppe, poke around for an hour, and actually _buy_ something! He must have had ten customers today and every single one of them purchased a book.

Humans had some nerve.

He didn’t _need_ to balance the accounts as he had no need of money, not like most business owners or humans for that matter. Whatever he needed, he would manifest it or go through other (legal) channels.

The only instance he ever needed cash on hand was when a book collector came through looking for someone to purchase his rare items, an activity that Aziraphale would rather partake in than the actual selling.

He put down his fountain pen and rubbed his cheeks. A cup of tea would suit him just fine about now, so he shut the accounts book and willed it away on a very high shelf so that he wouldn’t have to think about it.

Aziraphale sighed as he walked up the stairs from the shoppe’s back room to his living quarters, and he heard humming from his lavatory.

Oh, of course, he reminded himself. Crowley was having a bath.

It was not necessary for either of them to bathe; they could just miracle their bodies clean if they wanted, but Crowley loved his hot baths.

Well, not so much hot baths as _scalding_ bubble baths, and when the colder months came, he was known to have six a day.

Tonight, however, he felt like lounging while Aziraphale pored over his accounts. Crowley found all of that quite a bore.

“Come join me, angel,” he had said after filling up the fourth capful of bubble formula. “I’ve got a nice bottle of burgundy and new candles.”

He had to admit that it was quite an offer, seeing Crowley in that short, silk black robe of his, clutching an expensive bottle of red wine and producing a tamed bit of blue flame from his index finger.

Aziraphale found it odd that a demon would enjoy scented candles, but then again, Crowley was not your average demon. Aziraphale was grateful that this particular demon was fond of something with a hint of cinnamon.

He put the kettle onto the gas cooker and lit the pilot light. As he reached up for a mug in the cupboard, he heard Crowley from the lavatory.

“Angel?” he asked in a pitiful voice.

Aziraphale grunted and shut the cupboard.

He opened the door to the bathroom and stood in it's frame. “Yes, my dear?”

Crowley was reclining in the bath, bubbles surrounding him like fluffy ramparts. His sunglasses were resting on the sink counter and his yellow eyes looked up at him, and Aziraphale sighed.

“Well, did you need something?” he asked, hands on his hips.

Crowley held up the empty wine bottle and pouted his bottom lip.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear, it’s empty. Bath time over. Any other revelations I can help you with? I’m rather busy.”

Crowley released the bottle but it disappeared before it could smash onto the floor. “My bath is still warm, you know?” he told him in a low voice.

“Yes, I suspect most baths are that way.”

“Why don’t you open another bottle and join me?”

“No,” Aziraphale stated. “You’re cut off. How about a cup of tea?”

Crowley let out a disappointed sigh and slid down into the water, his head disappearing underneath the bubbles.

“Do be careful about splashing water onto my floor like you did last time…” Aziraphale grumbled as he moved back to the kitchen where the kettle whistled.

“Can’t see why he can’t use his own facilities,” he continued to mutter to himself as he turned off the cooker. “Using _my_ water, _my_ heat, my---”

His complaining was cut off by the sound of water splashing onto his tile floor.

“Bugger,” he cursed.

He stomped back to the lavatory and found a small puddle of soapy water that was seeping under the tub.

Crowley was peering at him, his eyes the only things above water that were discernible.

Aziraphale waved a hand and the puddle disappeared only to be replaced by another one as Crowley took a hand and splashed again, with a sly grin.

“Crowley…” he warned, willing it away.

The demon splashed again. “ _Every splash I make_ …” he sang in a mischievous tone.

“Stop _it_.”

There was a tense pause between them until Crowley flicked more water out of the tub with his foot.

“That’s it!”

The angel waved an arm and snapped his fingers, and the bathtub spit out its plug and the candles extinguished.

When the water receded, he threw a towel at Crowley.

“Dry off, get dressed, and get _out_!”

“Aziraphale?”

“I just want a cup of tea…” the angel muttered.

Crowley followed him into the den, wrapping the towel around his hips. “Angel, what’s the matter with you? I was only playing--”

Aziraphale turned and grabbed his arms. He could see the flash of alarm in Crowley’s golden eyes, and he sighed as he released him.

“Oh...my word, forgive me,” he said. He wiped away a few droplets of water from Crowley’s shoulder and then kissed it. “I'm sorry; I'm a bit short tonight.”

“Hm.” Crowley examined him. “You look the same height to me, angel.”

“Dearest…” Aziraphale gave him a tired smile and kissed him.

Crowley grinned against his lips.  “You’ve had quite a day, then?”

“Quite. _Ten_ customers.”

Crowley let out an impressed whistle. “My, my, you’ve had the _worst_ day.” He kissed his cheek and pulled him into an embrace. “Perhapsss I could...make you feel better?”

Aziraphale felt the quick swipe of his tongue across his ear lobe and his breath hitched. “I, well--I just wanted some tea and---”

“Tea or _me_ , my angel?”

This was typically not the hardest decision as Aziraphale would rather have a relaxing cup of tea with a book, although he would never admit that to Crowley.

However, he had to linger with that question this time as he faced him, fresh and clean from a hot bath, his short red hair wet and unkempt. His skin, tanned and scarred, was warm and yielding against him, and his slender arms squeezed his torso.

“Oh...my,” Aziraphale moaned, the rest of his sentence swallowed up by Crowley’s strong kiss.

He rested his hands on Crowley’s hips and gently pushed him against the flat door. His thumb swept across Crowley’s left nipple and the demon whimpered as it was then properly pinched.

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s erection underneath the towel and placed his thigh between his legs.

“Angel…” Crowley sighed as teeth bit his neck. “Yes, darling, _more_...harder…”

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” he whispered against his sweet skin.

“I enjoyed that, though, please.” Crowley grinded against Aziraphale’s leg. “Think of it as...stresss relief.”

Aziraphale could feel the mischievous grin against his cheek.

“Take your frustrations out on me, angel, I beg you.” He grinded harder. “Bite me, ssscratch me... _hit_ me…”

“I will certainly _not_.” Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley’s neck and stared at him, shocked. “Biting is one thing, dear, but I draw the line at---”

“Okay, we won’t go that far tonight, just...have your way with me.”

Aziraphale pulled away the towel from Crowley’s hips and pinned his wrists behind his back as his lips hovered over his.

“I can do more than that, love,” he growled, pulling away when Crowley tried to kiss him. “I can restrain you...tease you... _deny_ you, if I feel so inclined.”

“Yesss…” Crowley clenched his fists. Aziraphale was slow in getting the hang of talking dirty, but Crowley would take what he could get. He was getting somewhat better.

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you, you tart?” Aziraphale pressed his lips against Crowley’s jaw. “To have me fuck you so hard that your voice gives out from screaming?” He paused to relish in Crowley’s desperate whimpering. “You know well I can do more than have my way with you, dearest. I can fuck you so hard...you’ll speak in tongues!”

Oh, yes. Much better.

“Yessss, _fuck_ , please, angel!”

Clothes soon disintegrated off of him and Aziraphale released Crowley's wrists and lifted him off the floor.

Crowley instantly wrapped his arms around his shoulders and squeezed his legs around him. “Take me...”

Aziraphale miracled a generous helping of lubricant into his hand and applied it to his cock before pressing two fingers into Crowley.

The demon arched his neck, making the back of his head bang against the door. “Mmm, angel, please…”

“I do love when you beg,” he purred. He removed his fingers and carefully entered Crowley’s tightness.

Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s shoulders as his angel kissed him. He moaned into his mouth. “Ga--Sa--fuck _me_ , you feel amazing!”

Aziraphale moved rhythmically and every deep thrust into Crowley was pure ecstasy.

He held Crowley's legs in place at his hips and pressed his lips against his cheek. “Your lips...distill nectar," he whispered, "honey and milk are under your tongue…”

“Oh, shit, angel,” Crowley whined, wrenching a hand into Aziraphale’s hair. “Not the fucking Songs; I want to last for you!”

He really _was_ getting better at this dirty talk!

“The scent of your garments...is like the scent of Lebanon,” Aziraphale continued, pressing his words into Crowley’s ear. “Your channel is an orchard of pomegranates...with all the choicest fruits…”

“Fuck, Azira--”

“...calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense…”

“Shit, angel...please!”

Aziraphale pounded into him harder. “Let my beloved...come to his garden...and eat...its choicest fruits…”

Crowley growled through gritted teeth and he opened his eyes to find that Aziraphale’s glorious wings had manifested.

He wasn’t going to last much longer.

He groped at the base of Aziraphale’s wings, but the angel removed his hand and pressed them into the door. Crowley’s legs tightened around his hips and Aziraphale pulled himself out.

Crowley whined as his feet were set on the floor again. “Angel...I didn't mean to---”

He was interrupted by a sharp pull onto the wooden floor and he landed on his knees. Aziraphale moved behind him and Crowley could see the shadow of his beautiful wings over him.

Crowley’s body was pushed into the floor and he yelled as Aziraphale plunged inside him.

His wrists were held fast once more and Crowley moaned into the wooden panels, his eyes watering now.

Aziraphale leaned into him, and breathed into the nape of his neck.

“I am my beloved’s...and his desire is _for me_.”

“Sssshit!” Crowley’s claws had emerged involuntarily and he was carving smooth canals into the wood. “Azir---angel--I, oh shit...I can’t...please!”

“Let us go early to the vineyards...and see whether...the vines...have _budded_.” Aziraphale could feel himself closer to his climax and he raised himself to his knees, grasped Crowley’s hips, and drilled into him.

Crowley yelled again. His tongue rolled in his mouth and he moaned, “ _Futuē dure mē, angele meum. Meus corporis tua ara est, et tua anima meum vinum est!"_

“You vile, corrupt _beast_!” Aziraphale cried as he spilled into him.

Crowley came hard against the floor. When his climax subsided, he could finally feel the soreness spreading in his knees.

Aziraphale pulled out of him, rather quickly, and Crowley’s knees buckled and he lay still, panting and stretching his fingers as his claws retracted.

He watched Crowley as he lay sprawled, naked, and his legs trembling.

His wings disappeared as he put on his dressing gown, and he miracled away Crowley’s mess before helping him to his feet.

He gasped when Crowley collapsed into him. “Oh, dear...you’re so weak.”

Crowley grinned and allowed his angel to carry him to the old settee by the fireplace where a roaring fire suddenly appeared.

He covered him with a large green tartan quilt and kissed his forehead. “I’ll put the kettle on again,” he said in soft voice. “Since I was interrupted before…”

“S’ry,” Crowley murmured as he curled himself into a ball, tightening the quilt around his naked body.

Aziraphale laughed as he took down the tea bags from the cupboard. “Never mind, love.”

When the tea was ready, he brought their mugs to the settee. Crowley started from his dozing and sat upright, the blanket still wrapped around him like a second skin.

“Mmm,” he moaned as he held the hot mug in his hands. He giggled as he took a small sip.

Aziraphale looked at him as he stirred his tea. “What’s so amusing, love?”

Crowley smiled. “You still get off on Latin.”

Aziraphale flustered and huffed. “Well, I---I mean...it’s rather a sensual language, after all. And anyway, would _you_ care to explain your eternal fetish for the Song of Songs?”

Crowley shook his head, still grinning. “Fair enough, angel.”

Aziraphale moved closer and relaxed against the cushions, and Crowley leaned into him.

They shared a chaste kiss.

“You know I love you, right?” Crowley whispered.

“You only love me for my hot water.”

“ _Angel_ ,” he whined, nuzzling his nose against his cheek.

Aziraphale sipped his tea and licked his lips. He looked into Crowley's golden eyes and found the truth of his words there.

He grinned and kissed him again, slowly.

“I love you, too, dearest.”

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale is roughly reciting bits from the Songs of Solomon (or Song of Songs), pretty much a whole book in the Bible that's nothing but erotica (read it, though; it's beautiful).
> 
> What does Crowley say in Latin, you ask? "Fuck me hard, my angel. My body is your altar and your essence my wine."
> 
> Also, don't trust Google translate. It will give you many translations. I used another site!
> 
> Edit -6-27-2019- Thank you to reader happyb33ps for the correct Latin!


End file.
